


Reluctance - Michael Myers x Reader

by Espeones



Series: The Book Of Slashers (Series) [1]
Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Kidnapping, My First AO3 Post, No Smut, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 04:47:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15235674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Espeones/pseuds/Espeones
Summary: After an escape from her captors, she finds herself in the care of Michael Myers.





	Reluctance - Michael Myers x Reader

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: mentions of rape, abuse, and kidnapping (not from Michael btw), described violence, and strong language.

Her breathing was ragged, eyes flickering everywhere, as she ran through the forest at night.

Her assailants were close at pursuing her.

The girl's body shook with the cold rain that fell over her in freezing drops.

Eyes filled of fear kept a cautious eye out for her hunters. Two of them, male, seemingly innocent on the outside but completely sinister within.

Her mind raced with only a few things, she needed better clothes (outside of the underwear and ripped shirt she had), and to _escape_.

She turned the corner of a road, noticing the familiar town up ahead. Her feet stung and her head pounded, lungs stung with the need of air but she kept running. Through the night and in the shadows.

She heard the chasing footsteps behind her fade, her mind going blank as she turned an alley and fell to the ground. Heaving for air, she pulled herself to the wall.

 _Where was she?_ Haddonfield, she knew that.

 _Did she escape?_ That was a tough one.

_Where is Michael?_

She blinked hard at that one, Michael Myers. How long has it been since she had seen him?

The (h/c) haired woman remembers one of her her kidnappers saying it was a month or so...

She choked up a sob, curling up into a ball, her forehead rested at her knees. Rain fell onto her back and head but it was nothing to her.

She cried, her tears mixing with the rain that fell onto her. Her quiet sobbing was interrupted when a hand grabbed her arm.

Eyes snapped open, and on instinct and memory she began to thrash. A wave of fear washed over her and her movements spoke "terrified". She tried to scream, but her voice hurt.

Her throat hurt.

Everything hurt.

That's when her eyes looked to the attacker, or not an attacker at all.

She didn't stop thrashing when her mind processed it was not one of her kidnapper's, instead the tall, built figure of Michael Myers.

She flinched, crying out now as she tried to rip her arm from his grasp. "Le-let me go...!" Her voice cracked.

An arm wrapped around her, and she was picked up. Slung over his shoulder while still thrashing.

She gave in after minutes, far to exhausted to even comprehend what was going on. Hanging limply on his shoulder as he walked.

The girl almost began to cry again, now feeling the stings and burns of her wounds. Crying at what had happened for the past month.

She had no tears left when she was brought inside the old Myers house, staying limp as a ragdoll when she was placed down on the couch.

Her tear's were wiped away with a large, warm hand.

As much of a comfort it may seem, she was not convinced of her safety.

At least Michael could protect her.

 

•▪°○°▪•

 

Michael's relationship with the (h/c) haired woman was certainly strange.

It depended more on aid and recovery, and in some eyes it might be friendship. Though Michael dismisses any thought of it.

He went upstairs, going to Judith's old room and grabbed the unused clothing. Dusting them off and bringing them downstairs along with a towel.

She sat on the couch shivering and drenched in rain water. Carefully he paid no mind to anything else but aiding her current state, stripping her from the shirt earned him a blank yet cold stare. But he ignored it and wrapped her around with the towel.

She made no other sounds than a small whimper as her skin rose with goosebumps. He could properly see every bruise, bite, and marks were left behind whatever trauma she had experienced. To Michael, this could possibly damage her mind for the rest of her life. A wave of anger washed over him, keeping a mental note to get revenge on the fools who choose to do this.

As much as he would tell himself, she had grown on him. Gaining a soft spot for her, he didn't feel anything but anger when he saw the wounds.

He re-dressed her into cleaner clothes, before reluctantly leaving her for a moment to get a glass of water.

When he returned, the towel was wrapped around her hair, and her eyes, glassy and empty looked to his, dark and blank ones.

He brought the cup to her lips, and she parted them slowly drinking the water just a slow. Patiently waiting for her to be done by turning her head away.

Sorrow was the only emotion he could receive from looking into her eyes. Her face mirroring nothing but a blank emotionless facade.

He place the cup on the coffee table and picked her up again, this time being bridal style in caution of harming the woman more.

Another whimper left her throat, and he gently layed her down on his bed. His room being more secure and warmer than the others, he grabbed a brush off the wardrobe.

The bed creaked as he sat on the edge, moving the towel to brush away the tangles. He watched during the process as her eyelids dropped, before flinching when a tangle was pulled to hard.

In this state, she was nothing but fragile glass.

Michael would treat her so.

•▪°○°▪•

 

He cared for her as though she was a child, a quiet, paranoid, jumpy child.

She had been unresponsive to much for the first two weeks. Trying to push him away and refused to be touched.

He would have to force her to eat, as she would shy away from any food or meal.

The transition to a fourth week was different.

She would eventually take a chair to the window of his room, and sat down to stare out it for the whole day.

He knew why she did it, she searched for any signs of her kidnappers. Waiting for them to show themselves just to take her again.

At least that's what she showed.

She always looked to him expectingly when he was going to leave the room at any time. He'd always have to show her why he was leaving. Though her blank stare always delayed his leave.

She wouldn't let him leave her sight so easily, and he understood why completely. He was her one means of protection in her state.

After all, she hasn't even choosen to see her own family yet.

He'd usher her to the bathroom, and stand by the door while she showered.

She'd allow him to feed her, whether this was her way or recovering or not he'd do it.

At night he would double the house check, to assure her of no intruders, and wait for her to be asleep before leaving the house for an hour or so.

Tonight however she had awoken from a nightmare before he could leave.

The soft muffled sounds of thrashing met his ear when he passed by the door, making him pause in his tracks.

He peaked into the room, eyes behind the mask looked to the figure on the bed.

Soft cries came from the unconscious woman, mumbles and incoherent words left her mouth.

_"Stop... no- don't touch me!"_

A hand rested on her's, Michael grasped her shoulders and awkwardly cradled her to his chest. Her (e/c) eyes snapped open, clutching tightly onto the fabric of his coveralls.

Her cries were silenced as seconds passed. Hands and shoulders still shook with fear but she was less tense than before.

His hand brushed the hair that stuck to her face from the tears. Eyes meeting hers with reassurance.

 _'You are safe, you are not there anymore.'_ His eyes said, as he ran his fingers through her hair. Fingers scratching at her scalp gently.

She buried her face in his chest, her breathing shallow while her tears fell silently.

"I'm sorry Michael." Came the muffled words, the first words she had spoken for almost five weeks. It took the stalker/killer off-guard. "I put you through so much trouble, while I waste my life away waiting for any sign of my kidnappers." She said, laughing in despair.

When she gazed up through wet lashes, he shook his head in disagreement. If he did not want to care for her he would have left her in that alleyway.

Her brows knotted and she pursed her lips, "why are you so... _kind_ to me?"

He gave a curt shrug, and squeezed her promptly.

She didn't smile, but there was a twitch in the corner of her lips, one that- for once- gave Michael hope for her.

•▪°○°▪•

Three days after, she had stopped sitting by the window all day, as though a part of that night never really happened. As though it were just a dream in both their minds.

She would just walk around the house, no real path set, with that same blank glassy look.

But to Michael it was progress.

She would shower and dress herself with more awareness, being more relaxed when she was with him. Though she'd still flinch at any more contact, he'd make sure she was close by most of the time.

She would join him on the couch to watch cartoons on the small television. Even if she didn't laugh or smile, she would sit next to Michael and hold onto a part of his coveralls, as though she thought he'd disappear if she let go.

After another week or so, she began to eat by herself, shower and sleep without his presence right next to her. She would still take four hours in the afternoon to look out the window, however Michael noticed the gleam of life in her eyes. No longer a blank glass look to them, there was a small light.

In turn Michael had grown more protective over her, and had planned to eventually locate the men to punish and kill them.

He'd watch her and made sure she'd eat every bite of food. Drink water, and sleep without any interruptions.

He had also considered telling her about how the missing persons posters were still up. How her family was probably searching for a sign of her.

Maybe it was because of his own selfishness or her skittishness but he pushed the thought aside for a while.

Eventually it was October, it had been a few months of a recovery he had helped her through. She was still in a paranoid state, and in his mind, nothing but seeing proof of them dead would settle her skittishness.

So on the day before Halloween he'd make his move, already spending his free time to locate the fools who thought kidnapping the _now friend_ (- though Michael would like more -) of a killer.

He would give one hell of a punishment, they're gonna regret every single action they did with (Y/n).

His (Y/n).

 

•▪°■°▪•

 

Michael made sure the (h/c) haired woman was fast asleep when he left the Myers house. Taking a knife and a duffle bag with him, within were bundles of rope, a medium towel, and rolls of duck tape.

He set off, knowing the area where they were hiding away, which was farther off from where he guessed they originally had kept her. His plan was simple, clear, and he was going to see it through to the finish.

He moved in the shadows, not risking the faster way (being out in the open), he rather wouldn't want to get caught when there's someone who relies on him.

It took around perhaps fifteen minutes for him to reach his destination. A seemingly "abandoned" house hidden behind trees from plain sight.

He scouted the outer area of the house, before he found his way to the back door.

He entered silently after a few tries to unlock the door. Taking his time to look around and search for any sign of noises.

He reached a door left ajar, from within he could hear the whimpers and screams of a female. Accompanied by the sounds of harsh sex.

So his (Y/n) wasn't the only one targeted victem to this.

Michael felt anger bubble within him as the memory of first seeing her in the rain passed his mind.

He clutched the knife, walking towards the shadowed corner as footsteps approached from the stairs. The other sounds fading as the footsteps grew louder.

"Man, these girls just ain't the same as that other one." A man, who wore just a pair of underwear and shirt said as another walked up behind him.

"Your fault you couldn't fucking catch her."

"Her screams were the best though, right?" The first man snickered, and Michael almost wanted to walk up and stab him repeatedly right then and there.

"We'll come across another one, when we do her screams will be _better_."

They were fools, acted and spoke like fools.

Fools who'll soon be dead by the hands of Michael Myers.

"Get me a glass of water, and come downstairs when you're done." The second man said as he grabbed a cigarette and lighter, then walked back down to the basement.

Michael followed the other towards the kitchen, moving silently, he'd tied this one up first. Before he does, he needs a distraction for the second man.

Before he knew it, music began to play loud enough from the basement it reached his ears from where he stood.

They really are fools.

Knowing it'd be more difficult to hear any noise above the music downstairs, he stalked towards the man facing away from him. Towering over him with his almost seven foot height.

Before the man could turn around, noticing the tall shadow, Michael swung the end of his knife to a part of his head. And with that he was knocked out.

He took one of the long bundles of rope, dragging the body to the living room and began to tie his hands and feet. Michael made his knots tight, just loose enough so their was enough blood flow, then he stuck a piece of duck tape over the man's mouth.

He was still unconscious, and so he made his way downstairs, taking the full glass of water with him.

He made his footsteps louder, so they were not over looked. Waiting to see the second man' reaction as he reached the end.

Though he wasn't even prepared to see the scene infront of him. Chained to the wall were two females, both completely nude. One of the women were currently being used by the second man he sought to kill. Tears fell from their eyes and and screams left the one woman as the man continued.

He had seen enough things like this back at the sanitarium. While he liked dominance over others, he was also disgusted by this. Always was.

The other woman (not currently being raped), a blonde, took notice of him eyes widened when he raised a finger above his lips.

Michael Myers was no hero, no savior. But he'll release one of the women, if she chooses to free the other or just leave is her own decision.

"Brought me the water?" When the man looked where the table was, where Michael was previously standing, the killer was already gone. Moved away to another blind spot.

Almost like a snake, he walked up to his prey, and in a swift movement had him in a choke hold.

Hands grasped and clawed at his arm violently as the man choked out curses and threats.

Michael pulled him backwards, throwing him to the ground, and decided that this _will_ be his punishment.

"No- no fucking way." The man looked at him crazily. "You're not the real Michael Myers."

He tilted his head, pulling his knife from his pocket. The man in turn shrunk back.

"S-shit... that girl wasn't lying? Y-You'd find us?!"

He cocked his head to the other side, curious as to what he meant. Before he could do anything else the (currently naked) man stumbled on his feet. He began to laugh loudly, grabbing a pipe that leaned against the wall.

"Yeah, I know you, that girl... (H/c) hair and (e/c) eyes right?" He began to laugh again, the words inciting rage in Michael. "She used to be the best! Then she began to scream for 'Michael!' to save her. That's when we had to beat some sense into her..." He trailed off, a shit eating grin on his face.

"Help us please!" One of the women cry behind him.

The man sends her a glare, "shut the fuck up slut."

Michael moves towards him, and the man raises the metal pipe. Right as he swings Michael grabs the pipe, tossing it aside. It hits the wall with a loud "clank!" and Michael advances towards him.

"Dammit where is he?!" He glances at the stairs and pales when Michael is right infront of him. "I- _ack_!"

His pale hand meets the man's neck, lifting him up, and squeezing his windpipe. The man chokes in his grasp, clawing at the mask and his arms in futile attempts to break free.

Michael throws him to the wall, hearing his body collide with the cement.

The killer has him trapped, a foot forcing him down by his back, adm eyes cold and merciless staring at the man's figure.

Michael pulls him up by the long hair, and for the first time; plunges his kitchen knife into his mouth. The blade cuts at the corner of the man's mouth and cuts deep at the back of his throat.

Music still plays as he screams, and Michael feels adrenaline pump through him as the man's pain increases as he forces his knife deeper into his flesh.

When he cannot push the knife farther, he takes it out of his mouth. Throwing the man on his back, his gaze trailing down.

Another scream left the man's wounded throat when Michael stomped down on his cock. The killer feeling no remorse or regret.

With another stomp to his private region, Michael picks him up by the throat once more before he can choke on his blood.

He raises him to eye level, making sure he could see the violent and angered eyes he had before stabbing him repeatedly in the stomach.

His life drained away with each passing moment, and Michael tossed him down. His breathing ragged and his bloodlust high. He walks over to the duffle bag by the stairs, taking towel and wiped his hands from the crimson blood.

He glanced at the females before him, perhaps he'd throw the keys to one of then afterwards and then leave. Michael walked back up the stairs with his dufflebag in tow. His mind took note of the gleaming keys on the small table, having a feeling it was for the chains.

He gazed down at the first man, his eyes wide with terror. Muffle noises came from under the tape, and he struggled to free himself.

Michael twirled the knife in his hands, yes, he'd enjoy this a lot.

 

•▪°○°▪•

 

You gasped, throwing yourself out of bed. Leaving Judith Myer's old room and into Michael's for comfort, only to find him gone.

Your stomach dropped, crawling on the bed and sliding under the covers anyway. Waiting for the man to gain any sort of comfort.

Then your ears caught the sounds of faint voices, several faint voices.

Your mind went into immediate panic, your body tensing quickly.

No, these weren't your kidnappers, there were a group of teens. Nevertheless you were not at all comfortable to let them _stroll_ into _Michael's_ _home_ like it's nothing.

A shuddering breath left your lips, finding the room suddenly cold, but when your fingers brushed against your forehead, you were sweating.

_"Come on guys!"_

_"We should totally look for stuff."_

_"Better check all the rooms then."_

Your mind raced, what were you to do? Sit here and wait for Michael to return? You were far to out of it to go an approach them, seeing others after so long wasn't a good idea in your mind. Your mind went into a frenzy.

_"Hey I think this is Judith's room!"_

Your breath hitched, they were already looking upstairs?

You looked around the room with frantic eyes, _Michael, where are you?!_ You thought with heavy breaths. You quietly got out of bed despite your unever breathing, who knows what they'd do if they found you?

You mind came to a halt when you heard a thud and then screams through the house.

 _Michael!_ Your mind thought instantly, running out of the room to see if it were true.

You gasped when you bumped into someone, their hands grasped your shoulders to steady you.

An older teen's eyes met yours, he opened his mouth to speak but you tensed up, pushing him away harshly.

"Ow- shit! I was just trying to help you!" He paused to look at you again, you stared at him with widened eyes and shaking hands. "Aren't you that woman who's been missing?!" You flinched at how loud he became.

Once more, all panic left you when in a quick instant, Michael was behind the (now standing) teen.

It was a quick stab or two, and he was dead on the ground.

You placed a hand on the railing of the stairs, and another on your chest. Trying to steady your breath as you watched the boys eyes drain of life.

Michael took a hesitant step to you, and you ran up to him, letting his arms steady you as you gripped the bloody coveralls.

You almost began to cry again, almost, if his grasp hadn't assured you were okay now.

His hand rubbed small circles on your back, and when you were steady enough he picked you up carefully, walking to his room.

You were placed down on the bed, and a hand guided you to lay down before Michael left the room.

 _He'd be back... he always came back._ You assured yourself, hearing footsteps creak down the stairs.

You curled up under the covers, waiting his return.

What you did not expect was the two decapitated heads in Michael's hands when he reentered.

Two familiar heads.

Your breath hitched, as he held them up for you to see.

"Y-you killed them...? They're... they're dead?" You asked for some sort of confirmation, and you earned a slow nod in return.

You released the breath you held tightly, feeling you chest turn and stomach flip. "I..." You swallowed the lump in your throat. "Thank you." You finally managed.

There was no tremble in the two words, you hadn't need to feel any sort of grief or remorse for their deaths. In your eyes, they deserved more than a simple death, you hoped Michael saw that out. What they had done was unimaginable, undeserving to you, and now you supposed that - through Michael - you have gotten your revenge.

He watched you for a few more seconds before walked out of the room once more.

You heard the sounds of shuffling and then the water tap of the bathroom echo through the halls.

Slowly you layed back, and on your side fiddling with the strands of (h/c) hair. Perhaps you had to be better when facing this, now that you are positive they are dead. You needed to work harder, though you were completely reluctant to run head first into recovery.

What else? You needed to see your family, face the public with everything.

Your hands began to tremble again, stuck in a haze fog of your mind.

Before a hand was rested on your shoulder.

You sighed, looking up at Michael who stared down at you.

 _Move over,_ his eyes read.

Then you moved over, so he could layed down, closes to the door. No matter what, he'd always sleep on the side closer to the door, perhaps it was because if anyone were to rush in, they'd see him first before you.

"Thank you... Thank you so much, Michael." You whispered, he was your savior, whether he liked it or not.

 

•▪°○°▪•

 

Within the next weeks Michael watched as she improved day by day.

Her old personality shining through the glassy one that once replaced it. She cared more for her own health, and with his help she became increasingly better.

At night when she'd have nightmares of flashbacks, she'd always sneak into Michael's room, and he'd wait for her whenever he hears the door open.

Eventually it came to the point where they'd just share a bed, and in those moments there were no nightmares.

Michael denies being referred to as a "savior", but he will consider it; only for her though.

Just for her, he's willing to be her savior.


End file.
